Thomas Jefferson Where Angels Fear To Tread
by Lorenzo Mann
Summary: Thomas Jefferson is facing financial ruin at Monticello. He must take desperate action to save his plantation and his public image. But will his plans be enough to save Monticello and his sanity?
1. Chapter 1 - An Unhappy Accounting

**Thomas Jefferson – Where Angels Fear To Tread**

 **By Lorenzo Mann**

 **Copyright 2019**

PREFACE: This fiction story follows the timeline and events that began in my story _Alexander Hamilton and the Smuggler's Plot._ This is also a work of historical fiction set in colonial America during the late 1700's. The author has taken creative license with the characters, settings and situations in the story and has created this work for entertainment purposed only.

 **Chapter 1 – An Unhappy Accounting**

Thomas Jefferson was in a foul mood. The master of Monticello solemnly paced the halls of his mansion and fumed at his current predicament. The house servants knew from bitter experience that when their master was in these dark moods, they should provide him plenty of space and focus on their duties which allowed that. Jefferson's restless moodiness was due to the visit of an old business acquaintance, Mr. Drake Marley an accountant from Richmond. Old Marley was considered by many as the best accountant in Virginia and he was at Monticello to audit the plantations accounts.

Mr. Jefferson was agitated at the prospect of bad financial news from Marley. He stared out of a window and snorted derisively thinking of the coming conversation with Marley. The old man was a curmudgeon. A fastidious bean counter, completely unable to see beyond his thick round spectacles or to understand Jefferson's unique situation. As a gentleman planter, he was burdened with certain social expectations and these were often expensive. The Virginia aristocracy were accustomed to lavish dinner parties with the best of food and wine. Ever mindful of his social duties, Jefferson held regular dinners for Virginia's leading citizens and served the finest food and drink. Closely related to the entertainment expense were the nearly continuous remodeling projects on the mansion itself. A select group of the plantation slaves labored at this, but there were costs involved. Jefferson's scientific research and library were other unavoidable causes of red ink in the plantation books. Being a leading social and intellectual leader in Virginia forced Jefferson to embrace these added responsibilities. But Marley would understand none of this.

Jefferson paced by his closed office door and paused to listen but heard nothing from inside. He paced down the corridor and paused at another window. Old Marley would be behind the desk; shoulders slumped forward, wire spectacles perched on his nose, with that droopy, aged, face hovering inches above an open ledger book. Jefferson grimaced at the thought of having to justify his spending to Marley. The man's accounting expertise was beyond reproach, but beyond that skill, he lacked imagination, creativity, or inventive genius. These marks of character were the life blood that energized Jefferson's life at Monticello and were key to his success as a scholar and gentleman. In Marley's narrow view, Jefferson's genius must be restrained by the measure of money in the plantation's accounts.

Suddenly from behind the office door a bell rang, and Jefferson turned from the window. Instantly, a house servant, Old Ely, appeared in the corridor. He tapped twice before opening the door. Ely remained in the hall and leaned his face through the barely opened door, "Yes, sir?"

"Bring me some tea," Marley's dry, muffled, voice instructed.

"Right away, sir," Old Ely softly replied and gently closed the door. He shot a quick glance in Jefferson's direction and shuffled slowly away toward the kitchen.

Jefferson scowled, he would have liked some tea. That insolent old, fool, Ely had not bothered to ask if his master needed refreshment. Jefferson would remember this insult, perhaps Ely needed some time back in the fields. A few days of back breaking labor would serve as a good reminder of who was master of the Big House.

After two days of intolerable waiting for Marley to finish his work, Jefferson found himself seated before his own desk. He fought down a rising tide of anxiety. The normally immaculate desk was now covered in several stacks of financial ledgers. Any remaining desk spaces was buried beneath carelessly strewn papers covered in columns of numbers with notes scribbled along the edges. Jefferson shuddered inwardly, this was Marley's doing as he dissected the financial structure of Monticello and by extension, Jefferson himself.

Jefferson did is best to maintain an expression of amused indifference as he peered across the mess at Marley, behind the desk. He expected an unpleasant conversation was about to begin, so he tried a pleasant opening remark, "Well. Mr. Marley, am I correct in believing Monticello is in sound fiscal health?" Jefferson suspected Old Marley was such a social imbecile, that he would not recognize Jefferson's agitated state.

Marley stared blankly over his spectacles, his mouth hung slightly open.

Jefferson considered himself the master of every occasion, but suddenly realized he was becoming tense in the lingering silence. His false smile was about to begin quivering.

"You would be in error, sir." Marley breathed out slightly above a whisper.

Jefferson's brow furled in confusion, "You can't possibly mean to imply that there are problems with the accounts. You are pulling my leg, Marley."

Marley's expression remained blank, "I do not mean to imply. I speak in earnest, sir. We must have a frank discussion concerning your financial mismanagement of the plantation."

Mismanagement! Jefferson was triggered and hotly leapt to his feet. "I object to that word, sir! Now, see here, Marley, I know something of these accounts." he declared sternly.

"I find that extremely doubtful, sir." Marley said without emotion.

Jefferson was ready to grab Marley by the throat but restrained himself. The old man was well known and any assault on his person would reflect poorly on Jefferson.

The tension was broken when Marley rang the desk bell, and after two knocks, Old Ann's face appeared at the door, "Yes, sir?"

"Bring us tea," Marely said.

"Yes, sir," Ann replied and gently closed the door.

Marley set the bell on the desk and slowly looked back to Jefferson, "What happened to Ely?"

Jefferson face remained stern, "Ely has found other work," he said flatly.

Marley considered this and finally said, "Sit down Mr. Jefferson."

Jefferson began to speak and stopped himself. He was defeated and at the mercy of his drab, dusty, man. He raised a defiant arm to speak but stopped again and slowly slumped down into the chair. Thomas Jefferson was the image of a broken man.

Three hours later, he felt much worse. But at least Marley's tongue lashing was finished, and the old accountant had departed. Now, Jefferson was left to ponder his position. The evening sun was fading in the window as he sat at his desk, his head cradled in both hands. Marley had painted a grim picture of financial "mismanagement." Jefferson would love to horsewhip Marley for daring to speak to him in that manner, but it would not change anything.

Stop your foolish spending the old man had said or face disaster. No more French literature, paintings, wine, or food. Jefferson could not imagine such an existence. It was true that spending had surpassed income for the past several years. And the recent loss of a valuable cargo from the French ship LaPoofe had hurt the numbers. But even Jefferson had been shocked by Marley's final assessment. At his rate, he would be bankrupt in less than a year.

 **TO BE CONTINUED in Chapter 2: A Friend In Need**


	2. Chapter 2 - A Friend In Need

**Chapter 2 – A Friend In Need**

At home in his palatial mansion, Monticello, Thomas Jefferson was preening before the full-length mirror in his private dressing room. He was trying to find the "right" look and for the dozenth time, he adjusted the burgundy beret perched atop his head. He considered the new angle, frowned slightly and turned the hat slightly to the left. He paused to consider this, and finally frowned at the mirror again. Determined to get the proper look, Jefferson turned the hat slightly to the right and adjusted the angle. It was important to get the proper position from the start.

Mr. Jefferson was enjoying every minute with his new beret. After an interminable wait of several months, the beret had just arrived with a shipment of vintage wines and books from Paris. These new prizes from France had brightened his downcast mood after the recent visit from the penny-pinching accountant Drake Marley. Certainly, Marley would never have approved these purchases, but Jefferson choose not to think of that. He seldom wore hats but was eager to make an exception today. His new beret was the latest style on the continent. His domestic duties kept him far from the culture and sophistication of France. But today he could dress the part of a proper Frenchman and feel a bit closer to his French comrades by wearing the beret. He repositioned the beret yet again and lifted his chin slightly. Yes, that was the look, very European.

A soft knock on the dressing room door drew his attention from the mirror, "What is it?" he demanded harshly.

The door cracked open slightly and one of the house servants softly announced, "Mr. Madison is waiting downstairs to see you, sir."

Jefferson's mood suddenly brightened. His dear friend and protégé Jemmy, would appreciate this fine accessory of French fashion. He said, "See that Mr. Madison is made comfortable and I shall be down shortly."

A few moments later Jefferson pranced into his guest reception room. The new beret was conspicuously positioned on his head, "Bonjour!" he called to his friend, James Madison.

Madison turned from the window, a cup of tea in his hand, "Well, well, well," he said with a widening grin, "is that a new beret I spy resting atop your regal head?"

Before Jefferson could answer, a servant entered with a saucer and cup of tea, "Put that down you buffoon," Jefferson scolded the man, "Can't you see I am modeling? Now get out!"

The frightened servant rushed out closing the door behind him. Jefferson turned his attention back to Madison, "Well, Jemmy," he said and pivoted first to the left, and after a pause back to the right, "What do you think?"

Madison set down his tea and fixed a critical eye on Jefferson's head. Jefferson strutted about the room while Madison rubbed his chin and frowned, "Well. Thomas…." He began and then trailed off.

Jefferson paused, a crestfallen look began creeping across his face as he waited for his friend's critique. He was not prepared for anything less than a stellar review.

Suddenly Madison smiled broadly, "Stunning Thomas, simply stunning. A pity we cannot take a leisurely stroll through the streets of Paris."

Jefferson frowned slightly and replied, "Yes, pity indeed. These colonials cannot appreciate the example I am setting for them."

Madison mirrored Jefferson's frown, "True Thomas, but I envy you. It would be quite impossible for me to carry off such a look, while you naturally present yourself as a sophisticated man of the world."

Jefferson's head bounced slightly from side-to-side as he suppressed a satisfied grin, "Guilty as charged," he said, then added, "but you underestimate yourself dear man, and I cannot wait to show you're the last volumes I have added to my library."

"I am breathless with anticipation," Jemmy replier cheerily.

Then suddenly Jefferson sank into an overstuffed chair and sighed deeply, his voice cracked with emotion, "Thank you Jemmy, I do appreciate your encouragement. Things have been rather difficult here."

Madison seated himself in a nearby chair, "Your spirits do seem a bit down."

Jefferson stared across the room and did not appear to have heard the remark.

"Is this because of Marley?" Madison asked softly.

Jefferson instantly leapt to his feet as if he had sat on a tack, "What did you say?" he sternly demanded.

Madison was too shucked by this reaction to answer his friend.

Jefferson's face flushed red and nearly matched his beret. He struggled to restrain his temper and finally spit out, "What have you heard?"

Madison shrunk slightly into his own chair, "Nothing at all. But I know that Drake Marley visited you last week. I also know that your man Brute sold several of your more prized servants at the auction last Saturday."

Jefferson stared at the floor and his lower lip began to quiver.

"Knowing you as I do dear friend," Madison continued, "it appears you are trying to raise some capital."

Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, Jefferson's lanky frame collapsed into his chair and began whimpering softly while dapping his eyes with a silk handkerchief.

An alarmed Madison leapt to his feet and gently rubbed his friend's back, "Now, now, Thomas, let's have none of that," he said softly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Jefferson whimpered and bent forward to hide his face.

Madison rang the servant's bell on the side table and when the door cracked open, he called, "Bring the master some wine, immediately."

Suddenly Jefferson clutched Madison's hand, "The French 32," Jefferson whispered.

"Bring the French 32, immediately!" Madison shouted to the servant who nodded and silently and closed the door.

A short time later after several sips of a superior French wine, Jefferson had somewhat regained his composure. He explained the details of Marley's visit and Madison listened intently. When Jefferson finished, Jemmy shook his head sadly and fretted, "Ghastly news, just ghastly."

After a pause, Madison added, "I can assure you dear friend, none in our circle suspect your… _financial distress_." The last two words were nearly a whisper.

Jefferson jumped to his feet and took a deep drink from a crystal wine goblet, "Don't use that phrase, Jemmy. It distresses _me_."

"How thoughtless of me," Madison replied apologetically.

Jefferson choked back a sob, "It's a nightmare Jemmy. How am I to go on without literature, art, wine? What shall I be reduced too?"

"We shall find a way," Madison replied without any idea of how to help his friend.

Suddenly Jefferson straightened up and his voice hardened, "Yes, I will find a way. In fact, I have something already in mind. Pour another drink while we ponder my next move."

 **TO BE CONTINUED in Chapter 3: A Mound of Trouble**


	3. Chapter 3 - Into The Wilderness

**Chapter 3 – Into The Wilderness**

A gray and cloudy day found Thomas Jefferson and his dear friend James Madison on horseback riding far beyond the broad fields of Monticello. Jefferson's magnificent Arabian steed led the way as the two friends traveled down a narrow road through thick Virginia forests. The road ahead reminded Jemmy of a tunnel through a sea of dense green trees.

"You know Thomas, there is a fortune to be made in lumber here," Jemmy observed as they leisurely rode along.

Jefferson remained brooding and silent. He seemed to have missed his friend's comment entirely and Jemmy understood. Thomas was deeply distressed by his financial difficulties and had been in a gloomy mood. Jemmy had agreed to accompany his friend on today's ride in hopes of lifting his spirits. While Jefferson was silent, Jemmy continued to chat out loud to himself, "Lumber has so many uses and these forests are immense, Thomas. A logging operation could be quite profitable even in this distant wilderness. Perhaps you should expand your vision beyond your enterprises at Monticello."

Without a word, Jefferson reined his horse to a stop in the road and faced Madison, "Unfortunately, I don't have time to construct a lumber mill or expand my enterprises," he said darkly and extended his arm toward Jemmy. In Jefferson's had was a black, silk handkerchief.

Madison looked at the handkerchief and was confused. He smiled hesitantly, "Thomas, whatever are you doing?"

"I need you to put on this blindfold," Jefferson replied and took the reins to Jemmy's horse, "From here on, I will lead the way."

Jemmy frowned and looked from Jefferson to the blindfold and back. When Thomas had suggested they go for a ride, Jemmy had not expected this.

"I am going to show you something, but I wish for you have deniability regarding certain aspects of it," Jefferson said patiently, "such as where I am taking you."

Jemmy suddenly smiled broadly, "Oh Thomas, we are on one of your adventures. How marvelous!" Madison grabbed the blindfold from Jefferson's hand and quickly tied it over his eyes. He then grabbed his mount's saddle with both hands, "Lead on Thomas, I cannot wait for your secret to be revealed."

Jemmy's sudden enthusiasm was contagious and Jefferson laughed gently, "Yes, of course. Now hold on tightly, I would not want to explain to Mrs. Madison how I lost you in the forest."

"No, you would not want that Thomas," Jemmy exclaimed, "she would be quite cross with you. But I know one day we will look back and laugh about the day you blindfolded Jemmy in the forest!"

Jefferson laughed again, "Indeed we shall, dear friend," he said. Holding the reins to Madison's mount, Jefferson rode a short distance further along the forest road. Next, he led them in two complete circles before plunging his horse, with Madison's in tow, from the road and into the dense forest.

Jemmy had lost all sense of direction but held tightly to the saddle. Low hanging tree branches and overgrown bushes snagged and tugged at his clothing as they rode deeper into the forest. It was frightening, confusing and exhilarating. Jemmy could barely contain his excitement, "How much further, Thomas?" he finally called out.

"Not much further," Jefferson called back.

Jemmy could tell that Thomas was feeling better and could feel the horse beneath him carefully pick its footing through the forest. Jemmy smiled, he like surprises and Thomas was doing a good job of keeping their destination secret. Soon came the faint sound of distant voices talking and other sounds of hammering, sawing, of men working. These sounds gradually grew closer and much more distinct. Then Jemmy's horse stopped.

"Have we arrived, Thomas?" Jemmy asked while looking excitedly around, despite the blindfold.

"We have," Jefferson replied and removed Jemmy's blindfold.

Jemmy blinked several times while his eyes adjusted to the sight before him. Thomas had led them to a large clearing in the forest. They were surrounded by the green wall of dense trees on all sides. Before them in the clearing Jemmy recognized a gigantic Indian burial mound. These mounds were occasionally found in the forests of Virginia, but Jemmy had never seen one before.

Most remarkable was the swarm of African slaves who busily scurried over and about this mound. The sight reminded Jemmy of ants on an anthill. These workers scrambled up and down ladders and scaffolding that had been built on sections of the mound. In other areas new scaffolds were being constructed. Slaves were hammering, sawing, and carrying lumber as the new scaffolding grew like a cage around the burial mound.

A group of slaves were digging on top of the mound while others tunneled into the sides from ground level. Workers with pics, shovels and wheel barrows of dirt were everywhere. This organized chaos was forced labor under the direction and threat of Jefferson's overseers armed with guns and whips.

Jefferson gave Jemmy a satisfied look, "Well, what do you think?"

Jemmy's wide eyes darted all around, he had never seen anything like this. "Oh Thomas, I never expected this…very exciting!" he said, "You're excavating a native burial mound." Then he frowned slightly, "But why, Thomas?"

"I brought you here Jemmy, to show you why," Jefferson said and nodded toward a line of tents along the far edge of the clearing and they rode slowly in that direction. They rode through a sea of men scrambling in every direction, each intent on their own task.

As they rode on Jefferson explained, "Months ago, my surveyors stumbled across this burial mound quite by accident. I have some interest in archeology and began this dig as a purely scientific project to research the ancient peoples who once inhabited this area."

"Always the scientist, aren't you Thomas? Always studying and investigating. How interesting," Jemmy exclaimed.

"Indeed," Jefferson replied, "then a recent discovery here led me to expand to a much larger operation. Now, what is happening here needs to remain secret for the time being and you will soon understand why."

"I am simply giddy with anticipation," Jemmy giggled. This was an immense project, and Jemmy said, "Thomas, this must be a rather expensive project you've begun."

Jefferson smiled slightly, "Fear not my good man, you will soon understand everything."

They stopped outside of a very large tent protected on all sides by armed men. Jefferson dismounted and a guard stepped forward to take his horse, "Where is Mr. Varek?" Jefferson asked.

"Inside sir," the man replied and nodded toward the tent.

Jemmy was still looking all around him and Jefferson called, "Climb down, Mr. Madison this is what we have come to see."

 **To Be Continued in Chapter 4 – The Winds of Change**


	4. Chapter 4 - The Winds Of Change

**Chapter 4 – The Winds Of Change**

A guard opened the tent flap as Jefferson and Madison entered. They found Mr. Varek, Jefferson's aide and project manager, behind a small desk. Varek smiled broadly and came around to greet them, "Mr. Jefferson, delighted to see you sir, and you as well Mr. Madison."

Jemmy nodded politely.

Jefferson was anxious to hear the latest news on his project and got right to the point, "Well, Mr. Varek, how is our little excavation progressing?"

"Very profitably, sir," Varek replied eagerly. He then led them to an adjoining room in the tent, "if you will step this way gentlemen, I would be happy to show some results of our work here."

They entered a much larger canvas room containing various storage crates. Near the rear of the tent, in the flickering lantern light Jemmy saw several large wooden crates heaped full of what appeared to be bones. Several human skulls were visible in these crates.

Jemmy tugged at Jefferson's sleeve and hoarsely whispered, "Thomas, those are human remains."

Jefferson paused his conversation with Varek and glanced toward the crates, "Not all of them Jemmy. I have identified deer, bear, and several variety of forest birds among those remains."

Madison continued to stare in stunned wonder.

"There is nothing remarkable there," Jefferson said, "but I wanted to show you this."

Varek opened a heavy, black safe, and removed a small locked chest. He placed the box on a wooden table and unlocked it. Jefferson stepped aside to allow Jemmy to peer inside. Jemmy gasped in astonishment. The box contained a multitude of gems, gold coins, and golden figurines.

Jefferson smiled, "Take a closer look. This chest alone will cover my current financial crisis and I expect to recover enough from this dig to easily fund any future shortfalls."

Madison reached into the box and picked up a handful coins for closer examination, "Spanish doubloons?" He glanced at Jefferson, "But how, and why here in a native burial mound?"

Jefferson chuckled, "Excellent questions, and I believe that I may have some answers…"

Before Jefferson could explain, they were interrupted when a flap opened in the rear wall of the room. An African slave entered carrying a large burlap sack full of bones. The man roughly dropped the bag near the other crates of bones. From the top of his sack a human skull missing the lower jaw bone, slowly rolled off and thudded to the ground.

Jemmy saw this and was suddenly queasy. He dropped the gold coins and swayed slightly. "Oh good, Lord," he exclaimed as he covered his mouth.

The slave turned to leave the tent and Jefferson sternly called, "You there, stop at once."

The slave humbly turned to face Jefferson and removed his hat, "Yes, sir?." As the man spoke, he noticed the skull lying near his foot. He bent over, grabbed the skull and casually tossed it into a nearby crate of bones. "I sorry, sir," he said to Jefferson.

At the sight of this, Jemmy's knees buckled. He was overcome with nausea and near fainting, "Thomas, help me," he swooned.

Jefferson grabbed Madison's arm and Varek took the other to prevent Jemmy's complete collapse, "Steady, dear man, steady," Jefferson said firmly.

They guided Jemmy to a nearby chair and slowly lowered him into it. Jefferson then turned on the slave, "Get that out of here," he stabbed a finger toward the collection of bones, "I want that…debris, removed from my sight at once!"

The slave carefully surveyed the crates of bones and asked, "What you want I should do with them, sir?"

Jefferson sighed deeply and struggled to restrain his temper. If he killed this imbecile here, it would upset the others and delay work on the excavation, "I don't care what you do with them," he said sternly, "scatter them in the forest, but I never want to see them again."

The slave nodded slowly, sighed, and hoisted his original sack of bones onto his shoulder and trudged out of the tent.

Jefferson turned his attention back to Jemmy, who remained slumped in the chair and moaning softly. "There, there, gentle soul," Jefferson said tenderly.

A short time later Jemmy's color had returned and he rose slowly to his feet. Jefferson supported his friend and guided him toward the exit, "Some fresh air will do you a world of good right now," Jefferson said confidently.

"Thomas," Jemmy asked weakly, "are you sure that scattering the last earthly remains of those people in the forest is…proper?" They stepped outside and Jemmy breathed deeply of the fresh air.

"Don't concern yourself with those remains, Jemmy," Jefferson firmly replied, "Once I have the gold and other valuables here, I will scatter this mound and erase the memory of these savages from the earth."

Before Jemmy could reply, their attention was drawn to a distant roar from the forest. The sound grew louder and across the camp men cried out in alarm. Then a roaring wall of wind burst from the trees and ripped across the encampment. The howling wind pushed dirt, leaves, and other debris before it. Thomas and Jemmy were slammed against the tent behind them and covered their faces against the stinging dirt.

Across the worksite men scrambled for cover as portions of scaffolding crumbled and collapsed. Loose boards flew in the winds, striking many workers as they dashed for cover. Several tents collapsed, while others were ripped from the ground and carried away. A dark cloud of wind driven dirt covered the camp and the howling, swirling wind carried the thundering sound of a thousand screaming voices.

Then as quickly as it began, the wind storm ended.

Across the camp, men slowly raised their faces to be certain it was over. Jefferson and Madison regained their feet, saw each other and began laughing. Their faces were blackened with dirt, their hair and clothing were littered with dirt, leaves, and twigs which had been driven by the wind.

Jemmy began slapping at Jefferson's coat to knock away the loose dirt and debris when Jefferson saw his carriage driver and hired thug, Mr. Brute hurrying across the camp. Mr. Brute was large, bearded and dim witted. But more importantly he was loyal and obedient to Jefferson's orders. "Mr. Brute," Jefferson called, "come here at once."

Brute hurried to Jefferson and without speaking, joined Madison in slapping at the dirt on Jefferson's coat. Jefferson flinched away from Brute, "What the devil!" Jefferson exclaimed. From nowhere Jefferson pulled a riding crop and savagely struck Mr. Brute several stinging blow across his face.

"If you ever lay hands on me again in that manner, I shall have you horse whipped," Jefferson thundered at Brute.

The large man dropped his head in submission.

"Now, find a wagon and horses. I have a cargo to transport to Monticello, immediately!" Jefferson thundered. To his project manager he said, "Mr. Varek, I want a party of armed men to accompany that box back to Monticello."

Varek nodded and disappeared into the crowds of men getting back to work.

Jemmy asked, "Are you cashing in your new-found valuables, Thomas?"

Jefferson nodded, "And there could be new beret in it for you Mr. Madison."

"Oh Thomas, everything with you is such an adventure!" Jemmy replied.

 **To Be Continued in Chapter 5 – A Wild Ride**


	5. Chapter 5 - A Wild Ride

**Chapter 5 – A Wild Ride**

The afternoon sun had broken through the overcast sky and was low in the west. Finally, the wagon with five armed guards was ready to transport Jefferson's small treasure chest back to Monticello. Mr. Brute checked the harnesses on the team of horses hitched to the wagon, climbed onto the driver's bench and took the reins.

"Straight home, Mr. Brute," Jefferson called to his driver. Mr. Brute nodded and flicked the harness reins and the wagon slowly rolled out. The guards in the wagon bed were prepared for any threats to their precious cargo. Jefferson and Madison followed a short distance behind on their own horses. They entered the darkening forest on a trail that wound through the tightly packed tree trunks and dense underbrush.

"I am so glad that you don't think I need the blindfold this time," Jemmy said to Thomas, "you know I am a bit out of place in this wilderness. I could never find my way back here, let alone tell anyone else how to find it."

Jefferson smiled, he knew his friend was right.

Jemmy continued to chat as they rode along, "Now, tell me your theory on how Spanish gold turned up at a native burial mound."

"Well, I have no proof," Jefferson answered, "but I suspect pirates buried it with the idea that superstitions about the mound would help protect it."

Jemmy was intrigued and nodded eagerly, "Yes, I see, very interesting."

"We know the natives who once inhabited this area were too primitive to mine precious metals or to mint coins, especially Spanish coins," Jefferson stated, "ipso facto, my theory is pirates."

"You have certainly thought everything through, dear fellow," Jemmy replied, "and if true, you may recover an entire pirate's treasure. You had better hope some dreaded scoundrel of the seas does not come looking for his stolen treasure, Thomas."

"I trust you will warn me of any skull and cross bone flags approaching," Jefferson replied, and they both laughed. Ahead of them the wagon rattled onward over the rough and uneven forest trail, walled on both sides by the dense forest.

"How much further to the road?" Jemmy asked.

Jefferson gazed thoughtfully at the trail ahead, "This route takes us through more forest then on our way in here," he answered, "I wish to avoid the wagon and cargo being seen on the road."

"You're a master of details," Jemmy gushed.

"I would estimate another hour to reach the road. Then a short jaunt to Monticello for a delicious dinner and some fine wine," Jefferson said enticingly and Jemmy smiled.

They rode on in silence and Jemmy noticed the forest growing darker around them. Daylight was fading, and a fearful thought crossed his mind, "Are there many wild beasts roaming this forest?" he asked.

Jefferson chuckled, "Put your mind at ease, dear man, any wild beasts we encounter will soon fear us. We have a wagon full of armed men."

"Oh yes but carrying pirate's gold from a savage's burial mound, through a dark forest teeming with wild beasts is far more adventure than I am accustomed to," Jemmy fretted.

"Relish it!" Jefferson enthused, "adventure is the spice of life."

Just then a primal, high pitched scream erupted from the forest. The piercing sound came from ahead and to the left of the trail. Everyone craned their necks to locate the source, but nothing was visible in the dense green leaves, The scream rose in intensity and volume, and became an unearthly howl.

The sound frightened the horses and Jefferson and Madison struggled to keep their mounts under control. Ahead of them, Jefferson saw Mr. Brute struggling to restrain the wagon's panicky team. Brute pulled tightly on the reins to prevent the horses from bolting ahead, and wagon stopped.

At the same instant, the scream from the forest ended. A deafening silence engulfed them, and every man noticed the growing darkness surrounding them.

Jefferson spurred his horse ahead and called to Brute, "Move out!" and to the men in the wagon he ordered, "stay alert, all of you."

The wagon surged forward again. Mr. Brute continued to struggle with the frightened horses who wanted away from this place quickly as possible.

Jefferson allowed the wagon to pass and fell in beside Madison at the rear. Jemmy's frighten eyes were wide, "What on earth was that sound, Thomas?"

Jefferson had no idea but lied, "I believe it was a Red Crested Screech Hawk."

"A Red Crested Screech Hawk?" Jemmy repeated, "I'm astonished. It was a bird?"

"Quite probably," Jefferson lied, knowing that a harmless fiction would calm Jemmy's nervous tendencies, "they are a rare specimen in this part of the country. I am not surprise you have not heard of them."

Jemmy's trepidation instantly vanished, "Oh Thomas, how exciting! Do you think we may actually see this rare specimen?"

Jefferson eyed the darkening forest around them with a growing sense of dread, "I have no idea," he said and flashed a reassuring smile at Jemmy, "Excuse me dear friend, I must have a word with Mr. Brute."

"I will keep an eye out for that rare bird," Jemmy said.

"Look for the red crest," Jefferson replied as his horse trotted forward. He approached Mr. Brute and called, "Darkness is falling, and I want us out of this forest. Go as quickly as possible, but mind the wagon, we need it."

Brute nodded and gave the horses some free rein. The nervous animals instantly quickened their gait and the wagon rattled onward.

Jefferson fell in beside Jemmy again when from the trees to right of the trail another blood curdling scream ripped the air. The wagon team attempted to bolt again, and Mr. Brute groaned as he pulled them back and the horses stopped again.

The horrid screaming continued and Jemmy stood in the stirrups looking in the direction of the sound, "I still don't see it," he called out.

Jefferson's fearful horse reared and spun around fighting his control. He called to the men in the wagon, "Scrum and Crooks, go in there," Jefferson nodded toward the trees, "and silence that."

The two men jumped from the wagon with their guns ready. They fought their way through the tangled mass of brush along the roadside and vanished from sight. Suddenly the screaming stopped again.

"Are they going to shoot the Screech Hawk, Thomas?" Jemmy called in a disappointed tone, "I _do_ want to see it alive."

Jefferson nodded and waved to Jemmy, who fought to control his own horse.

All eyes were fixed on where Scrum and Crooks had disappeared into the underbrush.

"You boys all right?" one of the guards in the wagon called. There was no reply.

Suddenly they heard the frenzy of crashing leaves and snapping branches as if something large was moving quickly through the forest. A ferocious, guttural, growl rang out and a rifle shot split the air, followed by another. The three men in the wagon began cheering.

"Shut up you, fools!" Jefferson commanded and the men reluctantly fell silent.

The momentary silence was filled with more rattling leaves and crashing, snapping branches and finally a man's screams of terror. More shots sounded over the feral growling and human screaming.

Another man leaped from the wagon, "I'm coming Scrum!" he cried frantically and crashed through the brush. He was instantly swallowed by the forest. Seconds later were more screams, as if the man were being ripped apart. All the while the monstrous roars and growling continued.

"Thomas!" Jemmy cried in alarm as his terrified horse jerked backward and twisted his neck. The reins were ripped from Jemmy's hands and the frightened horse shot forward at a gallop. The terrified animal raced past the wagon and disappeared down the dark trail. For an instant, Jefferson saw Jemmy's arms flailing as he tried to remain in the saddle and then he was gone.

Jefferson roared at Brute, "Get this wagon out of here and don't stop!"

Brute firmly slapped the reins and the frantic horses leaped forward into a gallop. The two remaining guards in the wagon held on for dear life.

A roar of inhuman rage rose from the forest followed by something crashing through the underbrush. It was coming toward the trail. Jefferson released the reins on his struggling horse and spurred the animal forward. He sprinted around the wagon and chased after Jemmy. Aboard the speeding wagon, Brute watched Jefferson vanish into the darkness.


	6. Chapter 6 - A Dire Warning

**Chapter 6 – A Dire Warning**

Jefferson's horsed galloped at full speed across the grounds of Monticello. He pulled the charging animal to a stop, dismounted, and strode into the mansion house so quickly the house servants were unable to open the door for him. His rapid entrance startled a house maid, "Is Mr. Madison here?" he demanded.

"This way, sir," she replied and led him to the guest dining room.

Jemmy was tiredly slouched in a chair, an untouched plate of food was pushed aside on the table. He appeared pale and shaken, but otherwise in good health. Jemmy raised a trembling hand to sip some wine.

"Thank, God," Jefferson said and took a chair beside Jemmy, "are you all right?"

Jemmy stared blankly ahead. At Jefferson's question, his friend's wide eyes turned and he slowly nodded. "The horse returned here of its own accord. Your servants brought me inside," he said softly.

Jefferson nodded and assumed a lighter tone, "You gave me a quite a shock racing away with one of my finest horses," he said with a teasing grin.

Jemmy looked away and did not immediately reply. He finally asked, "Are you all right. Thomas?"

"Never better," Jefferson casually replied, "my only concern was not losing you in the forest. As you said earlier, Mrs. Madison would be quite cross with me."

Jemmy smiled weakly, then raised a trembling hand and took a long sip of wine, "Thomas, that was not a bird in the forest."

Jefferson knew this was true. That beast was unlike anything Jefferson had seen or heard in the Virginia forests. "I think we startled a bear," he replied.

"Thomas," Jemmy said slowly, "do bears make those terrible sounds?"

Jefferson was unhappy with the direction of this conversation and wished to change the subject, "We never actually saw the animal."

A deep silence fell between them, measured only by the persistent ticking of the clock on the fireplace mantel. Tonight's experience was far beyond Madison's usual life and Jefferson wondered if his friend could come to grips with it. Jemmy continued to slowly sip his wine.

"Did you recover those men who went into the forest?" Jemmy asked.

Jefferson was certain those men were already dead. After a pause, he shook his head, "The horses bolted too quickly. But, don't concern yourself. Those men are perfectly at home in the wild and are expert marksmen. If they've not returned by morning, we will begin a search."

Jemmy sipped his wine while the clock continued to tick.

After a few minutes there was a commotion outside and the sound of men shouting. A servant entered and said, "Mr. Brute has arrived with a wagon, sir. He is asking for you."

Jefferson rose quickly. "I must go," he said to Jemmy, "when you are ready, the servants will show you to a room. Don't fret, the this will all look much different in the morning light."

Later that night, after the recovered treasure was secured, Jefferson waited alone in a rundown wooden shanty in the distant backwoods of the plantation grounds. A single lantern lit the weathered wooden plank walls. A chilly breeze blew through the gaps in the wall boards and Jefferson pulled his cloak tighter to keep off the chill. He did not want to be here, but circumstances now required it.

The shanty door was quickly jerked open from the outside and someone was roughly shoved inside. An old man collapsed face first on the floor, followed through the door by Mr. Brute.

The old man lay on the floor, his long hair hung down hiding his face. "Stand him up," Jefferson said to Brute, then added, "put him in this chair."

Brute handled the frail figure like a ragdoll and roughly shoved the man down on a crude wooden chair. His wrists and ankles were bound with rope and he slumped forward toward the floor.

Jefferson bent over to speak, "Chief Lamatok, we have a few things to discuss."

The old man remained slumped forward facing the floor.

"I am speaking to you," Jefferson said, then glanced at Brute, standing behind the chair.

Brute grabbed the man's shoulders and pulled him upright to face Jefferson. His long, grey hair hung across his weathered and wrinkled face. But his eyes were bright and hard as steel. Jefferson had no doubt that Lamatok would kill him, if given the chance.

Jefferson smiled, "That's better." He pulled another chair from the corner and sat down facing the old man, "Old friend, coming home from the burial mound tonight I ran into some…thing in the forest. An animal or beast of some sort. I lost three men out there and barely escaped myself."

Lamatok's face remained stern, but the corners of his mouth betrayed a slight smile.

Jefferson nodded and said, "I take it you know this beast."

Lamatok did not respond. Jefferson waited patiently. The old man was stubborn and would gladly die before revealing anything to him. Jefferson nodded to Brute who released his grip on the old man. Lamatok remained upright like a proud and defiant statue.

Jefferson leaned close, "What was that thing?"

The old native stared into Jefferson's eyes, "Kolotockee," he whispered.

Jefferson turned his ear closer, "What is that…a name?"

"A legend," Lamatok replied in a hoarse whisper.

Jefferson laughed bitterly, "More of your folklore my friend, that's is how you became involved in this unfortunate mess."

"You lied," the Lamatok said bitterly.

"It was a mistranslation," Jefferson said smugly, "I was truly recording the history of your peoples. But, when you told me of the ancient burial mound I had to investigate a bit further, and look what I found." Jefferson pulled several gold coins from his vest pocket and held them out for Lamatok to see.

The old man spit into Jefferson's hand.

Jefferson smiled bitterly and wiped his hand on the dirty, tattered rags that Lamatok wore, "Old friend, that was not your burial mound. The ancient Watachee people buried their dead here long before your tribe ruled this land. I have taken nothing from you and will return your freedom when you help me to finish what we have started."

Lamatok smiled bitterly, "More lies," he said, "I will tell you the legend because I will soon die, and so will you."

Jefferson's eyes widened in mock surprise and he nodded slightly, "I see," he said, "then you had better tell me."

Lamatok's eyes narrowed and he spoke, "Kolotockee is the forest demon of the first Watachee people. You entered their burial ground and Kolotockee was summoned. Did you see him?"

Jefferson shook his head, "No, the forest was too thick. But I am picturing something big and ugly with large teeth and claws."

Lamatock nodded and smiled, "You speak the truth Jefferson. All who see the demon die."

Jefferson exchanged a glance with Mr. Brute, "Well, we are getting somewhere now, Chief. How do I kill it?"

"You can't kill it," Lamatok replied, "you violated the ancient burial ground and now you will die. Kolotockee will have his vengeance."

Jefferson frowned, "Well, we can't have that," he said to himself. Then to the old man he said, "I think that you may the liar here tonight Chief."

Lamatok's face remained hard, "Go into the forest Jefferson and you will learn the truth."

Jefferson studied Lamatok for several seconds and quickly stood, "Mr. Brute, I think we have taken up enough of the Chief's time this evening." He paused and looked down at the defiant old native and decided what to do, "Put him back in the hole." Jefferson said and left the shack.


	7. Chapter 7 - Disaster

**Chapter 7 – Disaster**

Jefferson was late getting to the main dining room for breakfast, Jemmy was nearly finished with his pancakes. "Good morning, Thomas!" he called cheerfully.

Jefferson sat down across the table and spread his napkin, "Good morning, Mr. Madison, how did you sleep after last night's excitement?"

Jemmy swallowed his mouthful of pancakes and frowned, "Thank you for asking Thomas, but not well I'm afraid. Visions of the ghastly bear ran through my dreams the entire night. It was just dreadful."

A servant set a plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacon before Jefferson and he began eating, "I am sorry to hear that dear fellow. After breakfast, let us take a relaxing walk around the grounds. Afterwards, I would love to show off my two new volumes of French poetry that I am sure will delight you."

Jemmy smiled brightly, "Oh Thomas, that sounds wonderful."

Jefferson smiled as well, he was determined to keep Madison's mind occupied and avoid any awkward conversations about last evening's unfortunate incident.

"Have your men returned from the forest this morning?" Jemmy asked.

Jefferson nearly choked on his mouthful of eggs, he had forgotten about that. He quickly recovered his composure, swallowed, and replied, "I have not yet enquired on that matter this morning. But I shall address it post haste, after our meal."

Jemmy scowled, "I do hope they found their way home after such a frightening encounter with that dreadful beast."

As Jemmy was speaking, a servant entered and quietly spoke to Jefferson. The man bent close and whispered into his master's ear. The corner of Jefferson's mouth twitched once, but his face kept its otherwise cheerful expression.

Jefferson murmured something to the slave and the man left. Jefferson cleared his throat and pushed away from the table, "I apologize Jemmy, but a matter has come up that requires my attention. Please finish your breakfast and I shall rejoin you shortly."

Jemmy shoved a forkful of pancake into his mouth, "All right Thomas. You know I cannot resist your pancakes!"

Jefferson left the plantation house and quickly headed for the main stable. He entered through a back door and in an empty horse stall, found Mr. Varek sitting on a bale of straw. Varek slowly stood when Jefferson entered.

Jefferson was shocked at the sight of his project manager. Varek's clothes were torn, dirty, and spattered with blood. His face was also smeared with blood and he held a blood-soaked cloth over a ragged cut on the side of his face.

"What on earth happened to you?" Jefferson asked, but he already knew.

Varek swayed weakly on his feet, "We were attacked by some animal from the forest. The workers were sleeping when it started, and it was a massacre."

Jefferson's nearly threw up his breakfast. His face was suddenly burning hot and his vision blurred at the edges, "How bad was it?"

A drop of blood from Varek's chin hit Jefferson's boot toe with an audible "plop."

"A disaster" Varek said at last. "At least 30 dead, the surviving workers fled into the forest. We tried to fight it in the dark, but the animal was incredibly fast and blood thirsty. It literally tore the men apart and destroyed the camp." The man was obviously traumatized and near collapse,

"You look a like a wreck," Jefferson said, "are you alright?"

"I think so," Varek replied, "aside from no sleep, a night spent running through the forest, and this wound on my face."

Jefferson leaned closer, "Did you see it?"

Varek shook his head, "Not in the dark. The men tried to fight it off with clubs, shovels, pics, guns, but it was useless. I grabbed the records and fled before it reached the main tent."

"Was there anything left in the safe?" Jefferson asked.

Varek shook his head, "Nothing since you left last evening."

Jefferson thought quickly, "Tell no one of this," he said, "I will have the runaways caught and returned. But we need to handle this quietly to keep word of the project from getting out."

Varek nodded, his pale face beaded with sweat, "I understand, sir."

"Go to the east guest house, clean up and get some rest. The servants will bring you some food and I will have my personal surgeon examine you and attend to that cut," Jefferson said. He noticed the bloody drip on his boot had dried to a brown circle.

"What about the excavation, sir?" Varek asked, "we need to drive that animal off."

"One thing at a time Mr. Varek," Jefferson said sternly, "we don't want to further complicate matters with rash decisions."

Jefferson returned to the dining room where Jemmy was contentedly sipping some dark French coffee, "Thomas, you missed a most delightful breakfast. I feel like a new man this morning."

Jefferson smiled and sat down. He extended his legs under the table to hide the blood on his boot, "Deepest regrets dear man, but I have many charges and they sometimes must take priority."

"I could never manage as smoothly as you do Thomas," Jemmy replied and set his cup down on a china saucer.

Jefferson assumed an official tone, "Now, if I may impose Jemmy, I have important task that requires a trusted man to accomplish. I believe would be ideal man for the position Mr. Madison."

Jemmy smiled quickly and then a dark shadow seemed to cross his face, "Does it require a ride through the forest, Thomas?"

Jefferson shook his head and smiled, "No, it involves a carriage ride. I need you to take the coins and gems we recovered to my agent in Richmond. He will liquidate the items and ensure the funds are properly distributed."

"Of course, I could do that Thomas," Jemmy exclaimed, "and perhaps do some shopping while in town."

"I believe you should," Jefferson warmly replied, "you shall have my carriage and driver for as long as you need them. If you wish to spend the night in Richmond, please do so."

Jemmy was thrilled, "How exciting!" but then he frowned, "Thomas are you certain you cannot come along to Richmond. It would be a wonderful opportunity to wear your new beret while we have lunch and do some shopping."

Jefferson could not contain his disappointment and sighed, "That is a divine, a splendid idea, dear man, but I am afraid that I have alarming news.

"Oh?" Jemmy said.

"My men from the forest last night failed to return this morning."

"Oh no!" Jemmy exclaimed in genuine shock, "Oh Thomas, terrible news indeed. How are you bearing up?"

Jefferson rubbed his eyes tiredly, "I sometimes question the Maker's wisdom in placing me in this position," Thomas confessed, "I am but a mortal man who sometimes feel burdened beyond my capacity to endure."

Jemmy leaped from his chair placed a hand on Jefferson's shoulder, "Take comfort dear friend, you are the great man among us, chosen to steer this ship through stormy seas, and you will succeed brilliantly!"

Overcome by the moment, Jefferson placed his hand over Jemmy's, "Thank you kind soul," he said in an emotional whisper." Then he quickly added, "I will have carriage brought around for you at once."

 **To Be Continued in… Chapter 8 - Dead Men's Tales**


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